


The Wood Thrush Sings

by ThePigInTheStripedPijamas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Character Death Fix, Drama, Fate & Destiny, M/M, Resurrection, Romance, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10972635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePigInTheStripedPijamas/pseuds/ThePigInTheStripedPijamas
Summary: Sometimes, when people where very good and very pure, the Gods gave them another chance. AU Where Marco dies and gets reincarnated into a small birdie that flies around to find Jean. Marco tries to warn them all about things to come. All spoilers will be tagged, if any. Basically a Kiss-the-frog!Marco/Jean AU. There will be romance and fluff, as well as mature content in the future!





	The Wood Thrush Sings

**Author's Note:**

> So I wasn´t gonna publish this and I was gonna let it sit in my computer as usual but I though the idea was super cute so I wanted to share. Also, Marco turns into a little Wood Thrush, so I´m attaching some links at the notes in the end so you can see what they look like. 
> 
> Un-betta`d coz I have no friends. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Edit: Some manga spoilers (Chapters 77 and 78 if I´m not mistaken) if you look very closely but you`ve been warned anyhow.

Sometimes, when someone was very good and very pure, the Gods gave them another chance. Although cult in the world within the walls didn`t know what re-incarnation was, didn´t believe it as many people once did, long  ago, the Gods sometimes granted special people a second chance. 

When Marco died, at the hands of a titan, he remembers he was crying. The pain of having half of his limbs eaten was still fresh in his memory, the few seconds of horror before blood loss was too much and he was allowed to fall into the darkness and silence of death. Wasn´t so bad, he thought, as he felt the emptiness of his abdomen at the loss of blood and tissue, death seemed  peaceful and enchanting at that moment. He didn´t see any light, didn´t feel the divine pull of the afterlife calling him or anything of that nature. 

If he were to describe how he felt when he finally did die, it would be turbulent. 

Dying, almost fading into nothingness and suddenly, BOOM! Like being yanked by the shirt by a mile long hand that wouldn´t end, almost to the point of being sick, if he had felt much of anything in the limbo right after he drew his last breath. When he came to, he knew immediately something was different.

His first memory of the afterlife was of bleak sunlight against his closed eyes. He felt weak and slimy, pathetically trying to push his head against a the walls confining his cramped body. The chirping of birds, loud and harsh and all encompassing as he struggles to surge from the tight enclosure he´s in, and he knows he should be scared but he feels oddly calm. As if this was natural, as if this was all meant to be, even if he can´t seem to open his eyes.

After crawling out of the remnants of his prison, he beings slipping into slumber, only realizing he´s been given a second chance when the only thing he can do before falling asleep is emit a cry. A bird`s call for its mother. 

\----

Being a bird wasn´t half as bad as what you would think. If Marco -  _am I still...Marco...?_ \- had to chose something he missed about being human, it would be talking. Even though this creature, his new  _mother_  would offer protection and nutrition, there was something inherently depressing in not being able to express love through words of affection. Instead, Marco though, God or Fate had given him the gift of a bird´s song which, after practice and mentoring from the older thrushes, he used to sing for hours on end. His limited knowledge of birds told him he must  be a wood thrush. He´d retained his mind and knowledge -  _his soul_ \- from his previous life, even though everything seemed so fuzzy and unreachable at times.

When he was strong enough to learn how to fly, his mother pushed him off the nest. He wasn’t remotely big or even that strong, but when push came to a literal shove, he extended his wings and flied, the feeling so incomparable to anything he´d felt before. If he had to describe it in human terms, he may have compared it to the use of 3D-Manouvering Gear but without the human limitation of size and weight and gravity and fear.  

He never did recognize his surroundings entirely, although he figures everything looks different with bird eyes. When the bountiful spring slowly shifts to the cold days of winter, he realizes they´re up north. The green foliage of the small mountains turn barren and icy, snow frosting their tips. He doesn´t really know how or why, but he and all the other wood thrushes around him know it's time for them to migrate. 

If only Marco had the words to describe what it felt, to just  _know_  these things. Not in an intellectual kind of way, but to  _become_ an animal of instinct was so far removed from anything he´d experienced before. Hunger, thirst. It all seemed a little bit more  _pure_. Now it was time to migrate, and he knew it like it was part of his circadian rhythm, as normal as waking up or falling asleep. 

It was bizarre, the first time he saw the walls from so high up. 

They looked so insignificant and vain, there just to protect the lives of one species of the thousands within and outside the walls. Still, the human part of him admired how unbelievably large this man-made structure seemed for a creature his size. So immense if seen from the ground, even though they barely looked like pinstripes from up high.

Their first stopping ground in their migratory course was inside what he´d recognized as Wall Rose. He wasn´t too knowledgeable of the path they had followed, being a little more than a fledgling            within the flock, but he was sure they were very near Wall Sina by now. The temperature had shifted a little, a little less fog and a little more sunlight, betrayed by how the snails weren´t roaming so freely anymore and so they had to pick fruits and worms from the ground. Wood thrushes, he´d come to learn, were foraging birds. Large packs of them would gather by the roots of the oak trees and look for seeds and insects and everything in-between. Now that all of them small birds were old enough to fly, their parents stopped feeding them and they had to learn to make do for themselves. 

As the days went past, Marco seemed to remember more things about his previous life. Not the visceral, human experiences like love or hate, or even the physical like muscle pain and the taste of strawberries. He had started remembering bits and pieces of his memories, the people within the walls and all of the events following up his demise. 

All too suddenly, like a freight train, he remembered. 

Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie. 

His little heart fluttered in his chest. 

_Jean._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I will be updating super soon :)
> 
> \---
> 
> https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/30/Hylocichla_mustelina_%28cropped%29.jpg
> 
> https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/PHOTO/LARGE/wood_thrush_sim_11.jpg


End file.
